Let The Bells Ring Out
by Gary Merchant
Summary: Well, I couldn't resist it.


LET THE BELLS RING OUT. . .  
  
Jamie was not in the best of moods. He had hardly spoken to the Doctor since Victoria had chosen to stay behind on Earth with the Harrises. He couldn't blame her for wanting to leave. She had faced terrors and experiences no girl of her age should have to endure. But it had still been a shock when she announced her decision. He missed her so much.  
  
The Doctor had tried to raise Jamie's spirits, but to no avail. So he left the young Scot to his own devices. He wasn't immune to sorrow, and couldn't deny that he also missed Victoria - he had said as much at the time. But now, with Jamie spending more time in the Cloister Room, the Doctor realised that something had to be done.  
  
Some time ago, on one of their many trips to Earth, the Doctor had gone into a local shop and bought a calendar. It was so that Jamie and Victoria could mark the passage of time in terms of a normal twenty-four hour day, but as time passed they had referred to it less and less. But the Doctor had continued to marks the days off anyway, if only to demonstrate some degree of organisation. Now, as he re-checked the date, an idea came to him.  
  
*****  
  
Jamie had discovered the Cloister Room fairly recently. After so many adventures, he had found it an oasis of calm. Somewhere to take stock and think. That was until Victoria had left. Now he spent more and more time here, alone.  
  
Jamie looked up, quizzically. He could have sworn he heard a voice. But there was no one here with him. There it was again, clearer this time. He looked around for the source.  
  
Then he saw her and was overjoyed. "Victoria! How did you get back here?"  
  
She appeared not to hear him. "I am the ghost of Christmas Past," she declared. "Jamie, your heart is heavy with pain and anguish."  
  
"Aye, right enough," Jamie agreed. He could see now that whoever it was, she was not Victoria. True, she wore a long flowing dress of the type she wore when they had first met, but her form was almost transparent.  
  
She spoke again. "Do you not think the Doctor feels the same as you?"  
  
"Well, I suppose . . . hey, what's all this about?"  
  
"You must search your heart and remember the good times, not dwell on the pain of loss." Then the girl who was not Victoria began to fade away.  
  
"No, please. Don't leave!" Jamie ran forward. But it was too late. She was already gone.  
  
He began to think about her words. "'Search your heart?' Aye, well mebbe . . ."  
  
"McCrimmon!"  
  
Jamie spun round, recognising that voice immediately. "Brigadier?"  
  
Again, he realised his mistake. Though the face and uniform was the spitting image of the military man, he knew this was another illusion. "I am the ghost of Christmas Present," he announced, "and a pretty rum deal it is too."  
  
"Och, another ghost? Is the TARDIS haunted now?"  
  
"Don't be absurd," came the reply. "McCrimmon, you don't know when you're well off. I know you miss that young girl, but look at you. Travelling around in time and space with the Doctor in that TARDIS of his - don't understand the first thing about it myself - and all you can do is feel sorry for yourself."  
  
Jamie bristled at this. "Aye, well it's easy for you to talk."  
  
"Talk is all I can do," he replied. "It's up to you to do something."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Oh good heavens, man! Make the best of the situation. There's a whole universe out there. Enjoy it." And with that, the man who was not the Brigadier faded away to nothing.  
  
Jamie barely had time to pause for breath, when another apparition appeared before him. She was slim, with dark straight hair framing an elfin face. "Well, I hope you're paying attention to all this." Her manner was haughty, yet at the same time, innocent.  
  
"Hey, you're a bit full of yourself," Jamie noted.  
  
"Well, I'm the ghost of Christmas Future, so I can afford to be." Then she smiled. It was such an appealing smile that Jamie couldn't help but smile back - the first time he had done so for a long time. "That's more like it," she approved. Then she too disappeared.  
  
Alone once more, Jamie was left with much to think about. 'Victoria' and the 'Brigadier' were both right - with a whole universe to explore, what good was he doing kicking his heels in the Cloister Room. Better to find the Doctor, who probably needed cheering up anyway. His mind made up, he left the Cloister Room, out through the maze of corridors in the general direction of the console room.  
  
On the way there, an unexpected aroma drifted past. He couldn't place it at first, but then he recognised it - the unmistakable smell of cooked food. "Jamie," the Doctor called, "are you there?"  
  
The Scot was curious. Usually the Doctor didn't bother with cooking. There was a food machine, but that hadn't been used for a long time, so they normally ate sandwiches. So what was he up to?  
  
Jamie's face was a picture of surprise as he entered the console room. Spread out before him was a table positively groaning with food and drink. Two places were set for dinner, the Doctor already seated at one of them. "Ah, Jamie," he smiled. "Just in time."  
  
Jamie sat down opposite his friend. "Doctor, I dinna understand. What is all this?"  
  
"Well, I suddenly remembered," he answered. "And I haven't had the chance to properly celebrate it for a long time."  
  
Jamie was still confused. "Celebrate what?"  
  
"Why, Christmas of course!" And the Doctor's face broke into a wide grin. "Surely you've heard of Christmas, Jamie? The season of goodwill and all that?"  
  
"'Course I have," he replied. "But back home we never bothered wi' it."  
  
"Oh." The Doctor seemed disappointed.  
  
A thought occurred to the young Scot. "But if it'll make you happy, Doctor . . ."  
  
"Oh, it would, Jamie."  
  
"Right ye are, then." They both smiled as they settled down to eat. Jamie recognised most of the fare before him, while the Doctor pointed out the delicacies he was unfamiliar with as they ate.  
  
It was later, as they sat back enjoying their goblets of wine, that Jamie raised the question that had been preying on his mind. "Doctor?"  
  
He offered a lazy smile. "Yes, Jamie?"  
  
"Is the TARDIS haunted? Y'know, ghosts and the like?"  
  
"Haunted? My TARDIS?" The Doctor was mildly affronted. "I should think not." He laughed. "Ghosts, indeed." He took a sip of wine.  
  
"Aye, well . . ." There was a look of scepticism on the highlander's face, but he let the subject drop. Instead he smiled, raising his goblet. "Merry Christmas, Doctor."  
  
"And to you, Jamie." The Doctor returned the gesture. "In fact, a Merry Christmas to all our friends, wherever they may be." 


End file.
